


Us Two

by rozberries



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Biting, Demonic Ghouls, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Other, Possessive Sex, Public Foreplay, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Telepathy, demon married anyway, nonbinary reader, rough to gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-02 23:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16314344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rozberries/pseuds/rozberries
Summary: And they said once you settled down you'd stop having fun.





	Us Two

God, his eyes. You can't handle the look in his eyes.

 

Green orbs track your every motion, from the shift of your wrists as they strain futilely against the rope they're bound with, to your thighs clamping together in tension. Special's tail slowly flicks back and forth, back and forth, observing you like artwork though you're writhing near naked on your bed. You can't decide where to look; his glinting eyes, or the impressive erection he's already sporting.

 

“Nice and comfy, sweetheart?” he asks, his shit-eating grin broad and sharp. You faux glare at him, baring your blunt teeth, and the fucker _laughs._ It pisses you off just as it sends a fresh jolt of arousal through your body.

 

“I'll give you three guesses, baby, and the first two don't count,” you say, eyebrows arching, and he laughs again before he slowly walks over to you. One long finger drags down the center of your torso; it isn't even sexual, yet goosebumps rise on your skin at his touch. Your eyes roll back in your head.

 

“I'm guessing you're very comfy,” he whispers, leaning down close enough that you can feel his breath on your ear. “Or you will be, at least. Now remember, ghuleh, one word and everything stops...but I don't think you're going to use it, are you?”

 

*

 

_Several hours earlier_

 

“Listeners, we are incredibly lucky tonight to bring you an exclusive interview with a nameless ghoul and a masked initiate, both of the popular band Ghost, whose latest album is quickly catapulting them into super-stardom with its record breaking charting. Thank you two so much for joining me on the show tonight.”

 

“We're glad to be here!” Special chirps to the radio host, clasping his hands in his lap. You're sitting in a studio with a massive headset over your head veils, trying very hard to look professional whilst sweltering. You hate that the Cardinal sent you along to do this interview-Special was very capable of doing it himself-but you couldn't deny that getting out of the church's complex was doing wonders for your nerves. Even with the uncomfortable questions and hiding a good fifty percent of your daily life, no longer being cooped up with nigh on a thousand other clergy members was worth it.

 

You force a smile to your face as you look at the host, who is entirely too eager for this interview. “As my friend said. It's always a pleasure to connect with the fans.”

 

He leans forward, hands rubbing together with vindictive joy; his station had claimed the rights to your words first and he was under the impression it would further his career. “So the first place we usually start is, what exactly is the true story behind Ghost?”

 

Thankfully, Special takes over from there, far more comfortable in the situation than you. You chime in when the host asks you something directly, which isn't often, or when Special looks to you with a silent request for elaboration. It's a lot harder to tell what he's thinking in the mask, but you've known him for so long that you get it right most of the time. His eyes crinkle after you let out a particularly witty remark, and under the soundboard your hands sneak together, fingers intertwining for the rest of the interview.

 

Eventually you can't bring yourself to sit any longer, and you stand and start pacing the room, carefully lifting your headphone wires so they don't catch on anything. The host eyes you with bemused confusion, but Special just chuckles.

 

“Something wrong, initiate?” the host asks, brows arched; you laugh and lean against the wall. Though you don't notice, Special's eyes narrow when he sees how the host's gaze is not fixed on your face, but on your body.

 

You, innocent, jerk a thumb at Special and grin, though he can't see underneath your mask. “I can't stand sitting still for too long, and I've officially run out of patience for chairs. Ask him, we've known each other for years.

 

“It's true,” Special says, but his eyes are narrowed at the host. He doesn't seem to notice, turning a grin on you that might have been winning had his teeth not been disgusting. Your lips press together tightly to keep from laughing.

 

The interview continues in this fashion, going into the usual questions; first, do you actually practice animal sacrifice(only sometimes, and why did everyone act so uppity about it when mainstream religion did it for centuries)? Then it's the corrupting the youth questions, those always give you a kick. You're certain Special is holding back laughter when the host brings up orgies, replying with a wink, “If I told you, I'd have to kill you!” but it sends heat rushing through your face. Okay, yes you _had_ participated in a couple, but they were very rare, usually reserved for major holidays. And it had been years ago, before....

 

Special catches your eye and you blink in confusion; the host is staring at you, too. Shit. You must have missed something while you were lost in thought.

 

“Sorry, gentlemen. I spaced out a bit there.”

 

The host looks amused, and this time you notice how his eyes catch on your curves; you shift uncomfortably against the wall. So quiet that the other human can't hear it, Special growls; you wouldn't be able to hear it had you not been his. Your breath catches, and green eyes snap to meet yours.

 

Sensing the tension, the host clears his throat, and then a shrill ringtone breaks the silence. Special pulls his phone out and listens, though you can't make out any sounds. He sighs an answer in Swedish before hanging up and returning his attention to the host. You tilt your head in question; he gives the slightest shake of his own.

 

“I apologize, sir, but our boss just called, and we need to get back. We'll have to cut this interview short, I'm afraid,” he says, but it almost seems _sharp_ , and when he looks at the host said man pales rapidly and stutters out his goodbyes to both you two and the listeners. Not a moment after he's done, Special quickly removes his headset, then yours, and practically drags you out of the room.

 

It takes you a few moments to recalibrate after your abrupt exit, and when your brain finally puts the pieces together you gasp. Special looks at you with worry, but you just gape at him.

 

“Holy shit, you faked that call just to get us out of that, didn't you?”

 

He shrugs, entirely too much satisfaction in his eyes. “Guilty.”

 

“Nihil is gonna fucking murder you,” you mumble under your breath in Special's general direction; he chokes back a laugh as you hustle out of the building. Cold bites at your skin under the too-thin cassock, and you cling to your ghoul as humanity rushes past you, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hand. More than a few passerby give you two masked beings strange looks, but you ignore them as you shuffle back into the car. Regrettably, it isn't Copia's masterpiece of machinery he stole from the Third, but it is relatively private and luxurious.

 

Snow gathers on the carpeting as first you climb in, then Special, and once the door slams shut you're on him without even bothering with your seat belt. Your fingers yank up his mask, rip down your veil, and furiously kiss him, hungry for his taste; his hands clamp on your waist as a low chuckle rumbles through his chest. The driver's partition is already up, thank Lucifer, because you doubted the poor guy wanted to get an eyeful of you two. Oh well, that was what he was paid to ignore. The Emeritus line had done much worse.

 

“Somebody's eager,” Special whispers against your lips, eyes dancing behind the mask; you roll your own and kiss him again, bracing your hands on his shoulders. The car is already moving into traffic, and you silently thank whoever ordered the tinted windows extra. One of his hands slides behind your head, cupping it, and pulls the veils off.

 

“If I didn't have some _immense_ self restraint, I'd blow you right now. I'm fucking _revved_ ,” you groan quietly, and his sharp intake of breath makes you preen with pride. His grip goes tighter, and he breaks from your mouth to kiss just behind your ear. You whimper at his hot breath moving over your skin.

 

“How much would it take to _break_ that restraint?” he breathes, and you shiver.

 

“Probably not much. Even with all that talk about _oh, how does the church affect your personal lives_ when you know he's asking if you're all into bondage and shit, _are there really a bunch of Emeritus bastards hanging around and what does Copia think about that_ -you think I fucking know, man, I don't even talk to him-it's so goddamn annoying, but that tension can go to better places,” You lower your head and press wet kisses along his jawline; a flash of gray skin before it's swallowed by peach surprises you, and you feel his talons digging into your thighs.

 

“What do you want me to say, huh, mister vanilla?” you mutter, trailing bites down his neck. “That this cheerful little weirdo and I have done things together that would make your hair stand on end? That we really don't give a fuck about the bastards because if we tried to track them all down it'd take a lifetime? That Hell is very real and its denizens have a weakness for sugar?”

 

You roll your eyes exaggeratedly, miming a horrified face, and Special bursts into laughter, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he gasps for breath. The opportunity is too good to pass up, and you sneak a hand into his pants, curling your fingers around him and rubbing your thumb over the tip of his cock. His breath hisses out from his throat as you caress him, and needlelike points of pain bloom on your neck when he lightly bites. He's already growing hard in your hand as you pump him.

 

“When we get back to the hotel-” Special breaks off with a whine as you give a particularly firm jerk. “you are going to be in _so much trouble_ , ghuleh.”

 

“Oh?” you ask innocently, sliding down in the car and turning awkwardly so you're at eye level with his crotch. There isn't enough time to do this properly, but you just can't resist teasing him; his cock is straining at his slacks. “I thought you liked me in trouble.”

 

A thumb strokes over your cheekbone, talon barely felt through the glamour. “Minx. Not now, we're almost back to the hotel, which means we have a few free hours before the ritual.”

 

“And then you're all mine?” you ask, laying your head on his thigh. His fingers twist into your hair, knocking your veils loose.

 

“Five minutes, and I'm all yours.”

 

Sighing, you remove your hand from Special's pants and get into the seat properly, buckling up. You can almost detect the relief from the driver's side, and snuggle closer to Special, his arm winding around you tightly. He mumbles something obscene in another language under his breath when you casually brush your hand over his cock again, and the hand on your shoulder sneaks under your shirt, fingers tracing patterns on your skin. You shiver, and you feel him silently laugh.

 

When the car finally pulls up to your hotel, you scramble out with the discarded fabric in hand, bouncing impatiently on your heels as Special takes the time to thank and tip the driver before he calmly slides out of the car. His eyes dance when he sees your frustrated expression, and without a word he offers his arm to you; you link yours through his and stride into the hotel, barely noticing the concierge's eyes, or that of the other guests. If they were paying attention, they'd see far worse when the Cardinal and the band ghouls get back from the ritual tonight.

 

Unfortunately, the elevator is already full of judgmental tourists, when you two reach it, which ruins your idea of getting on your knees and sucking Special off while you rode up to your floor. You huff, crossing your arms, and he wraps his arms around you, laying his head on your shoulder. It's impossible to be huffy, and you loosen up and lay your hands on his, nuzzling your head against Special's. No matter where you go, with him you feel like you're floating, happiness and safety surrounding you.

 

The tourists all get off on floors before your own, and once the door shuts behind the last one you spin and pin Special to the wall, furiously kissing him and letting your bundle of discarded veils fall to the ground. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and the other around your waist and _lifts_ , easily carrying your weight while he kisses you back. Your legs lock around his waist, and you press yourself into him, as close as you can go. When the door pings open, he doesn't bother letting you down before he steps into the hall.

 

“Forgot my veils,” you mumble into his lips, eyes rolling back into your head as his tongue tangles with yours and one taloned hand firmly squeezes your ass.

 

 _We'll get them later,_ he whispers directly into your mind, which tells you just how worked up he is; Special's proud of how many human languages he speaks, he _loves_ using them. If he's reverted to mindspeech, that means you likely won't be able to to attend the ritual, because he's probably about to fuck you until you can't even move, much less walk.

 

The prospect is extremely appealing.

 

No one notices the two of you fumble your way to your room, thankfully, because you no longer care who sees you. Special has to put you down to get the keycard from his wallet, but you keep kissing him, and he still holds you to him tightly while he struggles with the door. It opens, you walk backwards, pulling him by the hand, and he breaks away just long enough to shut and lock the door before he pounces on you.

 

Fabric rips as you try to tear your cassock off as fast as possible, but before you even get it over your head Special picks you up again and throws you onto the bed. He's over you in the next minute, mask thrown to some corner as he sucks deep bruises into your neck, grinding himself into you. You moan lowly and fumble with his shirt buttons, tearing a few buttons off before you managed to move the fabric enough to rake your nails down his chest. Glamour flickers again, talons fading into being on his fingers and digging welts into your shoulders.

 

“Do you even realize what you've _done_ to me?” he growls into your ear, definitively inhuman. “The interview, the car, the elevator-it's like you _want_ me to punish you. To bend you over the closest object and fuck you until you're screaming my name so loud the entire _city_ knows that you belong to _me_.”

 

“Wow, was his flirting that bad?” you gasp, rolling your hips into his and fumbling to shove his pants down. “I mean, I thought he was hinting at it, but I also thought you didn't like me when we first met, so-”

 

Special cuts you off with a sharp bite to the juncture of your neck, and you scream, back arching off the bed. You twist around underneath him until the cassock is over your head and off, and then you reach for his pants and finally get your hand back around his cock. He whines into your neck, still licking up the blood from his bite, as you caress the hot silk of him and then viciously jerk.

 

He lifts himself up for a moment, rips down your pants and underwear, and shoves two fingers inside of you, mercilessly stretching and teasing until he wrenches another scream from your lips. “He wouldn't stop looking at your ass whenever you got up. I wanted to rip his throat out.”

 

“Assholes stare, no matter how enlightened they think they are. What are you going to do, stick a label on me that says 'property of Special'?” you mumble, still trying to jack him off though he's doing a damn good job of stopping you. A warm hum vibrates in his chest, and into all the places you're pressed together; you give a full body shudder at the rush of sensation.

 

“Come to think of it, that's not a bad idea.”

 

Special kisses you with ferocity, pinning your hands above you; even when you whine as pitifully as you can manage he simply raises a brow. The whine when he slides off of you and goes to dig through one of the suitcases is much louder, but the look in his eyes makes you cut it off. When you realize what he's pulling out of the case, you inhale sharply, and his smile turns feral.

 

You roll towards the edge of the bed, but he catches you before you can escape; laughter bubbles up from you as he loops the silky rope around your wrists and pulls it tight, before he then secures them to the headboard. He takes a moment longer to position your legs, tilting his head to find the right angle, but he fastens them just as well; leaving you almost spread eagle, completely exposed and so aroused that it might embarrass you if the demon above you hadn't seen you like it a thousand times before. He still laughs as you squirm, heat burning your face.

 

“Enjoying the view?” you ask pointedly as his eyes rake over you. Special grins, gray spreading over his face as he allows some of his human glamour to drop; he licks his lips when you shudder. He strips off what remains of his clothing and crawls over you slowly, so slowly that if you weren't afraid of being kicked out of the hotel you'd be wailing. Finally he pauses between your legs and lays his head on your stomach, gazing up at you with an impish smile. You fervently wish your legs were free so you could clamp his head between your thighs.

 

He drags himself back down after a moment and examines your glistening body, more glamour flickering away so his horns and talons display. Then he's lowering his mouth to you, and you screech at the first touch of his hot tongue, hips thrusting desperately into the air. Smug bastard that he is, he laughs and redoubles his efforts, his laving against your flesh the sweetest kind of torment. It's not very long at all before your voice starts to get hoarse from begging.

 

Though you've squeezed your eyes shut, you can still hear him fumble with something and then release you with a wet noise that leaves you gasping. Special's swearing in low tones as he digs through the bags, searching for something and completely ignoring the panting mess he's made of you.

 

“Baby, please, I need you,” you beg, pulling at the ropes as hard as you can manage. He groans low in his throat and finally comes up with a small bottle of lube; the next kiss he takes from you almost suffocates you from how long it lasts. When he finally pulls away, panting over you, you yank as hard as you can manage at the ropes around your wrists, and the knot undoes just enough for you to rip your hands free.

 

Special gapes momentarily, and you pull him down to you, laughing against his lips and digging your fingernails into his back. “I really have to practice those knots more,” he sighs, and kisses you for several long moments, more gentle this time, before he reaches for the bottle of lube. You shiver as his wet fingers make their way inside of you again; it's cold and uncomfortable at first before slowly warming up. You arch your hips up into his, mewling, and he chuckles breathlessly before he finally slides into you.

 

It feels like coming home.

 

A soft sigh leaves your lips, and you cling to your ghoul, pressing your face into his neck. He clings to you just as hard, breathing endearments you don't understand into your ear as he begins to move. What was frantic and lustful becomes softer, though no less passionate. You meet the rolls of his hips like the ocean meets the shore, the only audible sounds soft sighs and moans.

 

When he reaches his peak, he realizes you have not, and removes one hand to slip down between you, kneading at your flesh until you gasp your release against his lips. Only then does he finally let himself finish, biting your neck again while he whines out your name. Filthy, both of you coated with sweat and other things, Special levers himself off of you and lies down beside you, resting for a moment before he stumbles to his feet and unties your feet. Immediately you roll over, opening your arms to him; he crawls into your embrace and presses his ear to your chest.

 

“I love you,” he whispers, twining his fingers with yours. The tattoo that spirals down your arm and his alike forms a whole link, and sizzles with the faintest hint of magic. You smile, tossing a leg over his, and kiss the top of his head.

 

“I love you, too. Always.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Special Ghoul gave me a hand kink and now I wanna ride him hard, so I made this.
> 
> This turned out WAY fluffier than I planned, but it's done driving me insane, so I don't care anymore.


End file.
